Conflict Made Flesh
by Juushika Redgrave
Summary: The night after his first trip to the past, Mirai Trunks receives a visit from his father. VegetaxMirai Trunks, angst, incest, explicit.


Disclaimers, warnings, and notes: I do not own DragonBall Z. I am making no profit. This story contains explicit sex between two males (yaoi, NC-17) and incest. You have been warned. I appreciate all feedback be it constructive or just a good word. Enjoy. This piece was originally posted in 2001. I am reposting it now for posterity's sake, and because I've always liked it.

April 11th, 2001

Completed April 17, 2001

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Conflict Made Flesh 

A VegetaxMirai Trunks One Shot

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It began with two seeking hands coming from empty darkness. Understandably, the first thing I did was panic. But I was blind and immobile, still swamped in shadows, and my thoughts were hazed and slow. Before I could make myself move my mind had calmed. The hands continued to search my body, moving from my chest to my face. Calloused fingertips found my lips, tracing them gently, and suddenly I could see. 

More beautiful than a vision, more welcome than a hallucination, more incredible than my brain can stretch to comprehend even now -- his face appeared before me. His hard obsidian eyes were fogged, drugged with lust. His raven hair, streaming up from a widows peak, was rough and tousled. His cheeks were passion flushed.

Vegeta. My father.

Deliberately he pushed his thumb past my lips and ran over my teeth. My tongue moved forward instinctively, wetting the back of my teeth, and I could just taste his salty sweat. The digit pulled away and passed over my jaw before his fingers threaded into my hair and pulled my head up, towards him. His lips parted and I gasped in apprehension -- then he crushed our mouths together. My eyes shot wide open in surprise but then fluttered closed. Raw passion drove him, I could feel it in his movements, and my heart raced as his tongue entered my mouth hungrily. He washed over my canines, pointed sharply from my saiya-jin heritage, and stroked my tongue. Slowly, hesitantly, I reached out to sample him, barely slipping into his mouth. I can almost taste it now: spice and blood. He sucked on my tongue, drawing it deeper.

After an eternity he pulled away. We were both breathing heavily. Just as my vision had come my surroundings slowly made themselves known to me. I was lying in my bed and Vegeta was on all fours above me. The covers had been shoved down to my waist by the insistent turning of fitful slumber -- I had been sleeping, but pulsing blood and a rush of adrenaline had shocked me to wakefulness. My bedroom window was open: Vegeta's entrance. A night breeze blew in just them, making my curtains flutter. Moonlight streamed into the room, providing just enough light for my eyes to see by and creating unusual silver-blue highlights.

"Vegeta... Father..." I gasped his name brokenly and he silenced me with a finger over my mouth.

"Don't talk, Trunks." His voice was rich and deep, tinted with cutting experience. Removing the finger that quieted me he met my mouth again. This time, there was no hesitancy before I responded.

I can remember rational thought panicking in the back of my head. I knew he was dead. I knew that he was killed before my birth and shouldn't have known my name. I could remember seeing him for the first time just that day. I could remember traveling to the past in an attempt to change history and seeing him there. I knew he was my father.

But the knowledge, as clear as it was to me, seemed irrelevant. It passed into my mind and out again. The tongue overpowering mine and the hands that were moving slowly down my unclad back, one bare and one gloved, stole my attention away. He was my father, yes. But damnit, he knew exactly what he was doing. Vegeta seemed intent of devouring me, his tongue filling my mouth and threatening to make me choke. A whimper built in my throat and spilt over before I could regain control and bite it back. Vegeta's lips bent into a grin against mine and he pulled back. He captured my bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it, then intentionally drawing blood and sucking the crimson life fluid from my body. With one final swipe of his tongue he pulled away completely and I swallowed, the taste of iron flooding my mouth. The wound was on the inside. With a deep breath, as if it would calm me, I opened my eyes.

He was watching me intently. I'll never be able to forget the look in his eyes. It was intense and overpowering -- I could have drowned in the depth.

Breaking the still, Vegeta rose and moved from over me to sit on the bed to my side. I pushed myself up on my arms and watched him silently. He had told me not to talk. Head turned towards me and intense eyes locked to mine he removed his second glove, then kicked off his boots. Vegeta was wearing the saiya-jin armor I knew he would and the long-sleeved bodysuit beneath it was black.

"Trunks..." he growled my name and my stomach tightened in an anxious, burning knot. With practiced ease he pulled off the chest plate and then dropped it to the floor. It fell with a muffled sound, leaving him in form-fitting spandex. As he ran his fingers through his hair to calm its wildness I observed his muscles, highlighted by the moon's glow. They were more compact than my own.

Finally I could no longer hold back my questions. "How, Father?" To my shame, my voice trembled. "What are you doing here?"

He spoke, but did not answer. Instead, he said, "Beautiful." Then he paused for a moment, my gasping breath very loud in the silence. He reached out one hand, running through my hair as he had done to his own, and then spoke again. "You are very beautiful, my cub. You are very powerful, very strong ... stunning." I could feel my heart swell with pride at my father's words. When his hand, holding the back of my head, pulled me towards him again, I came willingly and eager.

Vegeta gripped me to his chest, arms around me so tight I could barely breathe, his hands on my back. This time his mouth found my jaw, placing warm kisses along it. Then he moved to my neck, lapping at the skin below my ear. My cheeks were hot -- I must have been blushing -- and without my consent my head tossed back, exposing skin to him. He treated each inch and left my flesh sore. Then he traced down with his canines and began nip me. I think I was moaning then, but honestly I'm not sure -- I was engrossed within his touch. I held onto him, one arm around his back and one hand clutching a handful of his hair. It was rough under my touch, coarser than my own. He found a spot below my lobe and something like electricity ran through me and went straight to my groin. He kept at the spot and a low rumble filled the room. It was mine. With unrealistic suddenness I became aware that I could feel his heart beating in his chest, its rhythm so much like my own.

Mouth leaving my neck, Vegeta pushed me back down. My head hit the pillow and I gasped for breath. He shifted to straddle me again but did not lean onto his hands. Instead he met my eyes and then his hands went to my waist, quickly pushing away my thin bedsheets. The cold night air, entering through the open window, hit my skin and I shuttered. Leaving the covers he reached for my boxers. As he fingered the waistband I blushed but did not look away from his eyes. One hand slipped beneath the black silk and wrapped around my length. My hands clutched the fitted sheet on my bed and I thrust up to that warm, blessed touch. He smirked as I hardened in his hand until my erection was completely formed. His free hand pushed down my boxers, sliding them to my thighs. He must have removed them then, but again I don't remember -- his hand had begun to move up and down my shaft. It burned. My skin was aflame.

Quickly I grew more aroused than I had ever been, weeping precome and so hard it hurt. I yearned to close my eyes, to revel in the sensation, but I was afraid to break our locked gaze. When I breathed out, small whimpers and groans escaped me, wanton mewls. I knew there was more, and I wanted it. He leaned down, hair brushing the side of my face, and licked one of my nipples. I could feel it harden under his touch and when he bit it I cried out. It hurt, but the pain only made the act more real. My heart has never beaten so fast.

Eventually Vegeta left my erection and his hands traced down, between my legs. Between the base and my anus he stopped. His tongue traced along my chest to my other nipple as his fingers stroked that spot. Shivers of pleasure ran through me and made my skin tingle. Then his touch moved even further south, stroking the tight ring of muscle there. It shouldn't have felt so wonderful, but it did. I moaned, trying to urge him but afraid to say anything. He pulled away without entering me even slightly and then rose again to his knees.

I watched him undress. I don't remember how he got out of his bodysuit, but the sight of his bare skin is etched into my brain. He was stunning. There are not words. He was more than beautiful, more than handsome. Magnificent. The moonbeams made his skin glow and the highlights in his hair were deep violet. His legs were spread slightly to straddle me and at the junction his hardness stood. I can't recollect breathing at all and I know I was staring openmouthed.

When the black spandex had fallen to a pile on my bedroom floor, reality hit me. The thought of what he was going to do -- of what we were going to do -- flashed through my mind. My father was going to have sex with me. The words my brain supplied were different: my father was going to fuck me, up the ass. My stomach turned, sickened, but I wanted it. I desired it. I needed it. I was embodied by the dispute; conflict made flesh. My heart was burning at the same time that bile rose in my throat. I lusted after my father, the man that had bread me. I was beyond begging, and the air smelled of my yearning.

When he leaned over me I lifted my head and met his lips, reaching for his touch to calm my soul. His returned efforts made me moan into his mouth. Then his hands were on my thighs, parting my legs. I complied, moving them to my chest, and then he slipped between. His weight on me was heavy and his erection brushed mine, making us both bite back sounds of pleasure. Our tongues warred as he positioned himself.

Vegeta eventually broke his mouth away. I knew what was about to come and my body tensed, terrified. All he did was look at me. Our eyes locked and I breathed in, feeling muscles relax. Then he shifted, just slightly, and I felt his erection nudge my entrance. I held my hips still and tried to keep breathing steadily in and out. Then he pushed forward.

His entry was constant and strong. I bit my lip and tears stung my eyes, but I didn't look away. It felt like I was being torn in two. But I am half saiya-jin. His blood swims in my veins and because of it I have a high tolerance for pain and I am rarely wounded. It was as if he understood me, knew I could take it, and gave me no pity or mercy. There was only a steady penetration. At one point I could feel my flesh and muscle tear and then the sensation of liquid running down my skin: blood between my legs and tears on my cheeks.

Interrupting the pain was a blinding flash that turned my surroundings white hot. I let out some sound, raw and animalistic to my ears. When I could see again Vegeta was wearing a pleased smirk and panting. He was encased in me completely and waiting for me to adjust.

Very gradually the pain began to recede and at whatever signal I gave him, he began to move. Vegeta pulled out a fraction, paused again, and then drove in. My length was trapped between our bodies, rubbed roughly with his movement. He brushed that sensitive spot again and I went blind. Out for a second time, further than before, and then in with more force. He built a rhythm, one as powerful and hard as he is. Soon my bed had begun to shake in time with our movements as he slammed into me and I lifted to meet him. I clutched him frantically, uncaring of what I held just as long as I could feel him. Resting his weight on one arm he moved his now free hand to my head, threading into my hair. He bent down, breaking our eye contact to kiss me. It was rough, reopening the wound inside my mouth, but didn't last long. We needed oxygen to drive our screaming, reaching bodies. Vegeta rested his forehead on my shoulder and I finally let my eyes close. The depth of sensation increased even more and I whimpered.

I could feel something coiling in my gut, the release that I needed. It would bind us together, form a bond as close as the one between father and son. A bond we had never experienced. He continued to move into me and I began to moan his name, my saving mantra. When he growled my name in return, so close to my ear, I sobbed. Love is the purest emotion.

The pounding speed increased, so fast and so hard my skin chafed. The taste of blood in my mouth, a taste that will forever remind me of him, I clutched his hair and waited. Feelings coursed through me, making pleasure my world. I could feel his panting on my skin. Closer, and closer ... stretching for that pinnacle, tense and desperate. Then I felt my body shudder in the small hitch just before orgasm and gasped, eyes opening wide but seeing nothing. I was nearly there. It was almost complete.

Then I woke.

I lay on my back in my bed. The covers had been kicked to the floor and my hands were clutching the sheet atop the mattress. My skin was drenched in sweat and I was panting. Constrained within my boxers as an aching erection. The window was closed and the curtains were down. There was nothing on my bedroom floor save for the clothes I had shed that night.

It had been a dream.

Like an avalanche it hit me, covered me, buried me. I had dreamed of being screwed by my father. I had been willing; I had wanted him to do it. Wantonly I had encouraged and begged for the incest, I required his touch, his approval through sex. The thought alone was nauseating and I pushed myself up, stomach rolling unpleasantly. I was disgusted, sickened by what I had done in my dream. I was ashamed at the need and want I had felt.

More than anything, however, I was revolted by the need and want that I continued to feel. My hard-on was a stubborn pressure, unalleviated. I could smell sex and sweat on my skin. The images of him undressing, touching me, leaning down to kiss me -- they were all still in my memory. I still wanted his love and approval, I was still desperate for his understanding. I desired him and I could not deny that fact.

Without choosing to, I collapsed to lie again. My hand pushed down my boxers and pulled my length free. Lightly, carefully, my fingers wrapped around my hardness. With a sigh I relented. My eyelids fluttered closed and in the self-created darkness I fought to remember exactly how it had been, just what had been happening the moment I had awaken. Head on my shoulder, one hand in my hair, Vegeta had been pulling away in preparation to drive in again. I had been close, so close that I could taste it.

When the father I had created within my brain thrust, I plunged my hand down and my hips rose. He pulled away and I loosed my grip and pulled my hand up, feather light. In and I pumped, out and I teased myself with unsubstantial caresses. I imagined he was fucking me, I pretended that I could hear his irregular gasps for air. In moments I had worked myself to the point just before orgasm, body trembling. I paused, whispered Vegeta's name into the chill night air, and then bit my lip. Three more tight, rough pumps, my father consuming my thoughts, and a guttural groan spilled from my throat. I came.

Semen spilled onto my abdomen and dripped down my fingers as my body shuttered. Blinding whites and crimsons flashed before my eyelids. Fleetingly I could hear Vegeta's call of release. I could feel him again, smell his musk. I could taste him in my mouth and throat. I could have sworn that he was above me, marking me with floods of his seed. It was so real, so complete that it made me ache.

So soon, too soon, it was over. My lids parted and my eyes focused on the smooth white of the ceiling. On my skin, semen was cooling and congealing. I reached out blindly, searching for something to clean myself with. I don't remember what I grabbed, but it did the job. When all evidence of my weakness was removed I balled up the item and threw it the corner of my room. I tore the covers from the floor and hid myself, suddenly cold. Although I tried to rest, eyes screwed shut and body held unnaturally still, sleep never came. My only companion in the endless night was unrelenting, angry, corrosive shame.

I've tried not to think of it since then. The memories of my dream and my action were always there, recessed in my mind, but I kept it from conscious thought. Until now, that is. I see him again tomorrow. I need to go back. I don't know if there's anything I can do to help them, but only I know how strong the androids really are. It's strange, though, as I'm not frightened of the androids. I'm worried, but not scared. I'm afraid, instead, that I won't be able to look Vegeta in the eyes. I'm afraid that he will see through my fa?de. I'm afraid my mask will slip and my emotions will show. I'm afraid my body will betray me. I know him -- he can see through me. He is my father.


End file.
